On This Winter's Night
by zeshadesofjustice
Summary: December 26th was a cold, cold night. Severus is tired of the war, and tired of missing what he wants.


Winter had come with a rush, shoving autumn out the door with hardly a care, yet the weather hadn't changed much with the exception of even colder air; if one had thought the dementors were bad before, they were even worse now. The skies were overcast almost permenently, the dull light that seeped through the grey allowing hardly anything outside to have any true color.

What _had_ changed was Hogwarts.

The school was no longer the cheery castle it had once been - in some ways it was worse than the year Umbridge had seen fit to make herself High Inquisitor. Students weren't allowed to walk the halls, laughing and joking with friends. Not if the headmaster or the newest additions to the teaching staff were around. Then they were silent, somber, eyes cutting into the adults with unmistakable hatred.

Severus Snape was used to being hated by his pupils, so that hardly bothered him. In fact, he didn't care at all. He was supposed to protect them and keep them alive, not try to befriend all of them (and even if he had wanted to do that, there were more pressing matters to concern himself with).

He'd been sitting at his desk for over an hour, watching through steepled fingers as the light outside faded and his office grew darker and darker. Everything in the office was silent, for once. The portraits had learned already that their incessant chatter wasn't quite as welcome with him, but that he would allow them to talk almost as much as they pleased so long as they held their tongues when he asked it. (Admittedly, this did have something to do with the fact that he had threatened to have them removed and sent to the library if he kept having to listen to them constantly.) He sighed heavily and stood when he could barely see the outline of the wood before him, and with a familiar hand lit the candles on the desk.

A glance up at his predecessor's frame showed him seemingly asleep. For a split second, Severus was envious. Albus was gone, dead, resting in that marble tomb. The weight of the war was not as heavy on his shoulders anymore; there were others here to take on those burdens. _Probably won't be terribly long before I join him._

The envy he had felt disappeared with that thought. To be gone meant to be separated permanently from Narcissa, to leave her alone to face what may come. Just the thought of her name made him sigh again, heavily.

"Lost in thought again, Severus?" Dumbledore appeared to have awakened.

He walked around the other side of the desk. "Buried in it, more like."

"Ah, I do know the feeling well. I feel I must ask... Is it the war you think so much about, or something else?"

Severus stiffened. "I don't see why that would matter to you, Albus."

The man in the portrait gave a little knowing smile. "'A guilty conscience needs to confess. A work of art is a confession.' I suggest you tell her, and soon."

He tensed even more. "I don't know what you're referring to."

"You needn't lie, Severus. But you needn't have more regrets, either." Severus looked up, met the piercing blue eyes behind half-moon glasses. "Don't wait until it's too late."

"The sword... When should I take it to Potter?" He switched topics quickly, and the finality of his tone made it clear that he was through discussing anything else.

If he was disgruntled, Dumbledore didn't show it. "Tonight. He's in need of it now."

"I don't suppose you'll tell me why exactly it is that he needs it?"

The old headmaster shook his head. "You'll find out in due time, Severus. Tonight is not the night for me to divulge the knowledge. Have you decided how to get it to him?"

He nodded. "He'll have no idea it's me."

"I wish you good luck."

Dumbledore slipped back into his slumber as Severus swung his portrait over, revealing a little niche that he pulled the true sword of Gryffindor from. He ran his hand down the blade quickly before casting a charm to prevent it from cutting anything while he transported it. And then with a final look around the office, he stepped out.

Just before he left the grounds, he pulled his traveling cloak tighter around him and made sure the sword was secure within it. Satisfied, he stepped through the gate and spun on his heel, disappearing in a swirl of black. He appeared a few moments later in the Forest of Dean, at the edge of the lake he had discovered on his exploration of the area not long ago. It made the perfect place to hide the sword; nobody was likely to just stumble upon it here, especially if it were hidden at the bottom of the water.

Removing the charm, he broke a hole in the ice just large enough to put the sword through and let nature have it's way after that. It sank to the bottom with nary a sound, and when he was sure there would be no problems, Severus summoned his patronus. The silver doe looked at him before she bounded off on her mission, and he quickly disapparated.

It seemed to him that he stood just outside the gates to the school for ages when he reappeared there. Really it was only a minute or maybe two, but thinking of how much things had changed drew the time out. So much had happened so quickly and it wasn't over yet. There were more changes to come, at a much quicker pace. The students thought they had it bad now... But if Potter did something that Dumbledore hadn't counted on him doing, if he made a stupid mistake, then the school would be much worse off. The whole wizarding world would long for these days to return.

He sighed with the thought and entered the grounds. Walked up to the castle. Brushed past McGonagall in the entryway. Briskly turned on his heel when he saw the Carrows at the entry to his office. Made his way to a refuge.

With the late hour and earlier curfew times, the library was both closed and quite deserted. Of course, as headmaster, Severus was allowed wherever he wanted to be. And even if he hadn't been, he would have no qualms about letting himself into one of the few places he was hardly ever followed.

He pulled his wand from his robes and tapped the doors lightly. The doors opened with only a slight creak, the slight breeze from the movement bringing with it the smell of books. He closed his eyes as he stood in the doorway for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. What little brightness in the library came from the snow outside; there was enough light to identify the shapes of the tables, books, chairs, but not so much that he could read titles. Not that there was any need.

Closing the doors behind him, he maneuvered through the shelves to the restricted section. There wasn't a book in here that he felt like reading, but there was nowhere else he wanted to go either. He shed his outer frock and tossed it on a desk at the end of the row, pulled the chair to the window before he sat. He looked outside. From this side of the castle, all was white and undisturbed. Perfect. _An inaccurate depiction of this world. _

He sighed and looked away from the condensation gathering on the window from his breath, closed his eyes. Narcissa's face was there as soon as darkness settled in, and with the image came a pang of longing in his chest. He had tried so hard for so long to convince himself that she meant nothing to him, but there comes a point when all denial must end. So he had admitted it to himself first. And they hadn't done it verbally, but there was a mutual understanding between the two of them. An understanding that they cared for one another, even if they didn't know how much.

Except now, he did know.

The thoughts that began to run through his head were all of her. Of how he wanted her to be here, how he wanted to watch her sleep. How he wanted to kiss her. How he wanted her away from Lucius, away from this war. How he wanted her to know how he really felt, how he wanted to be done with this war. How he wanted to live so desperately now, because he didn't want her to be here without him.

And those thoughts led to others. He imagined he heard her voice and thought of the last time they were together. How she had kept him up the entire night making love, because she wasn't sure when they would see each other again. And that made him realize there was a very real ache in his groin.

Feeling secure in the quiet, he freed his erection from his too tight trousers and began to stroke. Images of her continued to play. Images of her perfect, pale breasts, of her lips playing in a very sinful manner as she looked up at him, of her soft cry as he took her without warning, and her legs wrapped around him. He closed his eyes and bit his lip as his strokes became quicker, but when his release came soon after he gave up on staying completely silent and hissed her name.

He took a breath afterward and froze, hearing footsteps close by. _Who the devil...? _

Narcissa herself walked around the shelf. Her eyes showed slight surprise; she obviously hadn't expected to see him just after pleasuring himself. "Did I interrupt?" Her voice was a whisper.

He stood, stepped close to her. "No. Never." She smiled slightly, looking at his face as if she hadn't seen it in ages. And admittedly, it had been too long. He was looking back at her, much the same way, and focusing so much that he hadn't even noticed when she moved so much closer that she was almost against him. "Since you're in the restricted section, does that mean that it's forbidden to touch you?"

She was amused. "No. I quite think you have permission to touch anything here you want."

His hands flew to her shoulders at that and his mouth covered hers. She moaned against him, and suddenly his fingers were those of an indigent. He couldn't get enough of her soft skin; the clothes needed to go. Her blouse was pulled off in one fell swoop, her skirt jerked down right after. And his hands traveled back up to expertly flick the clasp of her bra. He slipped it from her, tossed it on top the rest of her clothes and then stroked rough thumbs across already pebbled nipples. She pressed into the touch and again moaned into his mouth as one hand drifted down her front to yank her knickers down.

"Severus." She pulled away, and the breathless sound of her voice made him ache with want. "Stop for just a second." He frowned, but his hands stilled and he looked at her curiously. She just stood, and then she was a whirlwind removing his oxford and cravat, pulling his trousers down. He stepped out of them, kicked off his boots.

She kissed him and he figured that was her allowing him to move again; his hands began their renewed exploration of her body. She did the same with him, stroking his hardness as he slipped fingers within her. Her hips jerked against him but she didn't speak, just hoped that he would decide to end her torture quickly.

Things were in her favor. With a soft growl he picked her up, pressed her against the window. She gasped at the coldness against her back, wrapped her legs around Severus. He didn't make her wait any longer than that, but thrust inside her as he crushed her mouth beneath his. They moved as one, long familiar with each other's bodies and pleasures. Before long, Narcissa felt the tingling in her toes that spread quickly through the rest of her body and she shuddered as the orgasm washed over her.

Severus came shortly after her with a soft cry, and then continued to hold her. He pressed his forehead against hers as their breathing returned to normal and he realized just how cold the window was. It felt good now, against the sweat, but Narcissa was touching it more than he. Slipping from her reluctantly, he lowered her back to the ground and they flipped positions.

He leaned back against the glass and Narcissa watched him for a moment before leaning against him. "I don't want to go. I feel so far away from you, when I'm there."

"Can I forget - canst thou forget / when playing with thy golden hair / how quick thy fluttering heart did move? / Oh! by my soul, I see thee yet / with eyes so languid, breast so fair / and lips, though silent, breathing love." The pace of his heart tripled as he realized what he had just said, when he realized that he had truly brought things to the centre stage. Because even if she didn't truly love him, if he was mistaken and just thought she did, he couldn't deny to himself any longer that he did love her.

She was silent for a breath. "When thus reclining on my breast / those eyes threw back a glance so sweet / as half reproach'd yet rais'd desire / and still we near and nearer prest / and still our glowing lips would meet / as if in kisses to expire."

He smiled softly, a somewhat sad smile. "You know your Byron."

She kissed his throat. "A strange thing to quote, _Remind Me Not_."

"Yet somehow appropriate."

She laughed, softly, the sound music to his ears. "What do you want, Severus?"

"You."

At that she gave a sad little sigh. "You've had me. I should go."

"No. Stay with me. It isn't just your body I want, Narcissa." His throat felt tight, and he may have just imagined it but he thought there was a slight desperation and vulnerability to his voice. He didn't want her to go. Not now, not ever. He wanted to keep her here, and to do it boldly. To let that idiot Lucius know what he was missing.

"Then what?"

He could see from her eyes that she was afraid to hope, but hoping she was. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, and it was that knowledge that let him know that it was okay to tell her to truth. "You. All of you."

"What of the war? Lucius? The Dark Lord? They won't allow it."

"They aren't my concern. You are."

She smiled and tugged his head down to hers. "It's been years since I've heard a man say that," she murmured.

"Damn shame," he murmured back. And as he kissed her possessively, thoughts of everything else trickled away. He didn't care what it was that Potter needed that blasted sword for, or what the Dark Lord would do if he found out that his headmaster was distracted. He didn't care about the taunts they'd get from Bella, or the hatred he'd provoke in Lucius.

On this winter's night all he cared about was the woman in his arms.

**A/N****: **This piece was written for three reasons. One, I wanted to challenge myself to write a piece in this tone. Secondly, it is for the "Pairing Love Competition." And thirdly, it is also for the "Strange Places to Couple Challenge."


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